


the skylight is like skin for a drum I'll never mend

by Chash



Series: forget your perfect offering [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: For the first few months after their fight, Bellamy was sure Clarke would get in touch again. Call him back, meet him somewhere, at least tell him she never wanted to talk to him again.After six years, he's given up hope. He doesn't even think about her very often anymore.And then, she calls him up because Madi's getting married, and of course she wants him to be there. Of course, he wouldn't miss it.





	the skylight is like skin for a drum I'll never mend

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I started this on Friday bc I wanted to play around with some of the S5 conflicts in a modern AU, and I was having a lot of fun! And then Friday night happened and kinda derailed my brain, obviously.
> 
> (If you're one of those people who only reads my fic and doesn't follow the show, the actors who play Bellamy and Clarke announced they got IRL married. For real.)
> 
> I actually spent most of the weekend fretting that it would seem like this fic was written in response to that? Mostly irrationally, but I just want to make it clear that it's definitely not. Cool? Cool.

When Bellamy sees it's Clarke calling him, he thinks about not picking up. If anyone asked him, he could give a dozen good reasons why he doesn't _want_ to talk to her: the stupid fight, the way she didn't pick up his calls or respond to his texts for months after the fight, until he gave up, the way she never tried again. Six years is well past the statute of limitations on broken friendships; he'd be within his rights to never give it a second chance.

But then he wouldn't know why she was calling, and he'd always wonder.

"Bellamy Blake," he says, in case it's a misdial. Maybe as soon as she hears him, she'll realize her mistake.

Instead, her voice comes through, clear and confident, the same as he remembers, "Hi, Bellamy? It's Clarke."

The I-deleted-your-number interpretation of his greeting hadn't occurred to him, but he's not going to correct her. "Oh, hey, Clarke. What can I do for you?"

She lets out a sound that's either a laugh, a sigh, or a huff; he can't tell without seeing her face. "Madi's getting married."

It takes him a second to do the math. Madi was in high school when he and Clarke had their big blowup. Their blowup had been _about Madi_ , ostensibly, although he'd never felt as if he had a great idea of what _happened_. It had been bad, but it hadn't felt catastrophic at the time. He and Clarke have had fights before--their whole relationship was fights for the first few months--and they always recovered. He'd taken a calculated risk, going behind her back to help Madi disobey her, but it had never occurred to him that he'd messed up his calculations so badly.

She can't be more than twenty-two, so "Already?" is what his brain comes up with, before he's totally caught up.

"They've been friends since freshman year of college," says Clarke. "And dating since junior. I was worried when it was so serious, but--it is that serious."

"So, tell me about them. Madi's fiance." 

The words feel mismatched in his mouth, uncomfortable. In his memory, Madi is younger than she was when he last saw her, somewhere from twelve to fourteen, a newly minted teenager who thought she knew everything.

The pang of still loving her plucks itself like a guitar string in his side. 

"He's great," says Clarke, her tone a little too casual and a little too prickly all at once. "They were roommates freshman year, and then he started transitioning over the summer after that. Which is probably the only reason it took them until junior year to figure it out."

"That's not that long."

"You haven't seen them together."

A silence stretches between them, because of course he didn't. _I miss you_ , he'd told her, in his last message. _I miss Madi. Tell me what I can do._

Clarke clears her throat. "Anyway. She wants you to come to the wedding, and she wanted me to tell you so you wouldn't think she was going behind my back."

"If she invited me, I would have come anyway."

Her huff of laughter is soft and grudging. "I figured, but she wanted me to do it anyway. And I thought it couldn't hurt."

"Sure," he says, like this isn't one of the most painful phone calls of his life, including _your mother is dead_ from the hospital and _I'm not coming home_ from his sister. It doesn't even make sense, that someone reaching out again can be worse than losing them forever, but it's not as if Clarke is trying to reconnect.

Madi is, at least, and that's what he reminds himself of. "Are you still in Boston?"

"Yeah. The wedding is out in Western Massachusetts, though. That's where Josh's family is from."

"Josh is the groom?" If he's Clarke's husband or something, Bellamy might hang up.

"Yeah."

"And his family is good? With everything."

"Yeah." He can hear her smiling, can almost see it. "They run a farm share and make their own clothes out of hemp, they were so supportive it verged on parody."

"That's not a bad thing."

"It's not. Madi was so relieved. I was too." She breathes out, centering herself. "And she really wants you there."

He toys with the question, swishes it in his mouth for a few seconds before he lets himself ask, "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Do you want me there?"

If he couldn't hear her breathing, he'd wonder if she'd hung up. Or died on the spot. "Yeah," she says, fragile as a dry twig. "I do."

It doesn't actually make him feel better.

*

"Clarke called."

Raven's jaw works, emotions flickering across her face in the seconds before blankness takes over. "Did you pick up?"

The thing about Clarke dropping him was that it wasn't _just_ him. They'd been friends, but it was one of those spiderweb friendships, and everyone involved had to pick sides. When Clarke decided she couldn't talk to Bellamy, Raven had reached out on his behalf, trying to make peace. He still doesn't know exactly what happened between them, but she decided she couldn't be friends with Clarke either, and everyone else ended up following their lead. Monty held on the longest, seeing her for lunches, movies, a short-lived book club, but he had Jordan and then the break up with Harper, and then even they drifted apart and Clarke had no one left.

Except Madi, of course. Madi was hers.

"Yeah, I picked up. I wanted to know why she was calling."

"And?"

"Madi's getting married."

"Jesus, she's twelve."

Bellamy's mouth twitches. "She's twenty-two."

"Which isn't that much better." Her eyes flick up and down his frame, checking him for damage. "Whatever, she's getting married. And?"

"And she wants to invite me. And make sure I knew that Clarke knew about it."

"What did you say?"

"I said yes, obviously." He shrugs. "Madi didn't do anything wrong."

"No," Raven grants.

"What did Clarke tell you?" He hadn't wanted to know before, but it seems relevant now. He needs all the information he can get. "Do you know why she won't talk to me?"

"Because she's a proud, stubborn asshole," she snaps. "She just said she couldn't deal with back-seat parenting, and that's bullshit. Like you were sticking your nose where it didn't belong, like she didn't fucking _ask you_ \--"

He smiles a little, faint and involuntary. "How long have you been holding on to that one?"

Raven rolls her eyes. "Six years." 

"Right, obviously." He runs his hand through his hair, sighs. "I can't believe she's old enough to get married."

"They grow up so fast. You okay?"

"Ask me again after the wedding."

"When is it?"

"I don't actually know. I figure I'll get an invitation. Maybe you will too." His mouth twitches. "I can see Madi using this as an excuse to try to mend bridges."

"You want those bridges mended?"

"If I knew, I'd tell you. I wouldn't mind closure," he adds. "Or at least an explanation. It's not like I didn't fuck up. I knew she would be mad at me, and I did it anyway. I undermined her authority, but--I thought she'd get it, if she let me explain."

"And you did the right thing."

Bellamy shrugs. "She told Madi she couldn't do something, and when Madi came to me, I helped her do it. It doesn't really matter if Clarke was wrong to tell her no or not, what matters is that she was Madi's mom and I shouldn't have contradicted her."

"You been rehearsing that?"

His laugh is hollow. "I said it enough back when it happened, it came right back."

"She was wrong to never give you a chance to tell her what happened," says Raven. "Seriously. She's just too stubborn to admit it."

"Maybe." He exhales. "It doesn't matter. It's been six years, it's not even like--we're not friends anymore. We're not anything. Maybe we just won't talk about it. It'll be nice to see Madi again. Meet her fiance. Make sure everything's going okay."

Raven considers him again, and he guesses the question right before she asks it: "Were you ever in love with her? Clarke."

"Sort of. I would have been if I didn't know better. But I knew better, so I wasn't."

"Is that how that works?"

"I was engaged when we had that fight," he says, like that has anything to do with anything. 

"That would be a better argument if you were still married. Not that it matters either way."

"Yeah, let's not act like Clarke is the reason I got divorced." He sighs. "I loved her, especially when we first met. But then she got Madi and that was her priority. I wanted to be her friend more than I wanted to date her, so I stopped wanting to date her."

"But if she'd asked--"

"If she'd asked seven years ago when I was single, we would have talked about it. I didn't agree to this because I was carrying a torch."

"No," Raven says. "I know. I just always kind of wondered, and this seemed like the time to ask." She takes a long drink of her iced latte, finishing it off and slamming on the table like a gavel. "Okay, so. What do you need me to do?"

"Do?"

"What do you need from me? Moral support? Plus one? Hacking the seating chart so you and Clarke are in different buildings?"

He snorts. "Let's wait until I've got the invitation. It might not be that bad."

"Yeah? Tell me another one."

"Seriously, if Clarke just wants to let bygones be bygones, fine. I can play nice for a day and go back to pretending she doesn't exist. And maybe I'll reconnect with Madi. Get to be a part of her life again."

"And what if Clarke wants to be friends again?"

"She doesn't," he says, flat. He has to believe that; he can't get his hopes up.

"Humor me."

"If she wants to tell me what the fuck happened, she can, and we'll go from there." He finishes his own coffee. "But she's had six years to do it and never did, so--one day, and we're done. I can survive that."

"Gotta love that patented Blake optimism." But she sobers, straightens. "If you need something, you'll tell me, right?"

"I'll tell you. I'll be fine," he says again, a magic spell to make it true, and Raven smiles.

"That's the spirit."

*

He does let Madi go to voicemail, but that's not actually deliberate. He sees an unknown number and just assumes it's someone trying to sell him insurance or steal his credit information; he wasn't born yesterday.

Most of the time when this happens, there is no voicemail, so when the phone buzzes with that notification, he does wonder if it's something real, but he's still not ready for the sound of her voice, a little older but still bright and clear and achingly familiar: "Hi, Bellamy? It's Madi."

There were three times in Bellamy's life when he thinks he could have asked Clarke out and she would have said yes, if she was going to. He could never convince himself she would, so he never did, but they're easy to identify, the times when they were both single: her junior year of college, right after graduation when she asked if they could be roommates, and a year later when she asked if she could adopt Madi.

"You remember my Little Sister?"

As always, it took him a second to realize she was talking about the Big Brother/Big Sister program and not a blood relation, even though he knew she was an only child. "Madi? Of course. What about her?"

She let out a breath like she was preparing for battle. "Her aunt was finally declared an unfit guardian, and I want to adopt her."

He hadn't ever doubted her. He knew she wanted to and that she'd be up to the challenge. Madi had been eleven at the time, an orphan for four years, bounced from relative to relative. Clarke had been her Big Sister for two of them, and they saw each other once a week for trips and movies and just to talk.

He knew how much Clarke loved her.

"I know it's not just my decision, you live here too, but we have a spare room and--"

"And she needs a home."

"She really does."

When he lets himself wonder about Clarke, that's the moment his mind snags on. He could have told her he wanted to help, that he wanted them to be a family, because he _did_. 

But it was too risky. He couldn't lose her.

Madi doesn't get through more than, "I just wanted to--" on the voicemail before he hangs it up and redials the number.

She picks up on the first ring. "Hi, Bellamy."

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't have your number, I figured it was just a spam call."

"No, it's fine, I figured."

They lapse into a silence that's more like a pause, at least from Bellamy's perspective. He saw Madi a couple weeks after his fight with Clarke, so it hasn't been quite as long, but the difference between six years and six years minus three weeks is basically nothing. She said she was sorry, he said it wasn't her fault, and her mouth quirked and she said Clarke said that too. 

He hadn't asked her what else Clarke had said, what it looked like from Madi's perspective. That was what had started the fight in the first place, his getting between them, and back then he still thought things might get better, if he just figured out the right thing to say.

"So, you're getting married," he says, warmth flooding his voice. "Congratulations."

"Yeah, I can't quite believe it. Not, like--we talked about it, we were on the same page, we knew we wanted to get married, but I wasn't expecting him to propose so soon."

"That's great, though. Tell me about him."

"He's amazing. Clarke told you he's trans, right?"

"Yeah."

"I still had kind of a crush on him before he told me he was trans, but he was kind of--we were really close but I felt like he was kind of holding back? I thought maybe he was just--not sure he liked girls or hadn't gotten there yet, but then he told me he thought he might actually be a boy and he was worried I wouldn't like him if he was, and he still had to actually transition. But he did and everything just clicked into place."

"That's awesome. When's the wedding?"

"October. We want to do it in fall, Josh really loves the leaves near his parents' house. But early, so it's not too cold."

"That sounds perfect, yeah. So, what do you need me to do?"

"Show up."

He has to smile; same old Madi. "Okay, is there anything you _want_ me to do? I barely had a wedding and there was still a ton to do."

"Ours is pretty small," she says. "Some of Josh's family doesn't want to come, and it's not like I've got many people on my side."

"Raven wants to know if she's invited." It's not a lie, exactly. Raven probably does want to know. "Monty would come too, if you asked him, and Harper, if the timing works for her. Hell, if you _want_ Murphy at your wedding--"

She laughs, soft. "I figured I'd let you test the water with them. I know stuff was--kind of rough."

"Kind of, yeah."

Like before, she offers no explanation or justification. "Okay, so, you, Raven, Monty, Harper, Murphy. Who needs plus ones? I assume you're bringing Echo."

"We actually got divorced." It's been two years, and it's pretty easy to say, now. He's far from the only thirty-eight-year-old guy who tried a marriage that didn't work. His is less dramatic than a lot of them. "Monty and Harper broke up too," he goes on, not letting it be weird. "But they're on good terms. Monty's dating my friend Miller, you remember him?"

"Yeah. And they've got their son, right? The baby."

Bellamy has to smile. "Jordan. He's nine."

"Is Harper dating anyone? Should I give her a plus one?"

"I'll double-check. Murphy and Emori are still going strong, Raven's got a boyfriend I think might actually stick."

"Awesome. So, plus one for her, Monty, maybe Harper? I'll send one invitation to Murphy and Emori. Do you have someone else to bring? Girlfriend, boyfriend, bodyguard?"

Even if Raven hadn't asked about him and Clarke, the question would probably trigger alarms. He remembers being a kid from a broken home, hoping every boyfriend his mom brought would be the one that stuck around. He's sure Madi used to hope for the same thing, coming into what looked like a ready-made family.

She could still hope for it with some juvenile part of her, but she's old enough to get married, which should be old enough to not actually try to do some _Parent Trap_ shit.

"I don't think so," he says. "Clarke won't mind all of us coming?"

"I think she asked you and was hoping you'd ask everyone else. You did, right?"

"Not _everyone_. But I'll give them a head's up. I know they'll all want to be there for you."

"It's not like I don't have _anyone_ ," she says, smile in her voice. "I have friends."

"You have a family too. Just because--"

It's good she cuts him off, because he doesn't actually know what he'd say. "I know. Let me give you my email so you can send me everyone's addresses for the save-the-dates. And if I need anything else, I'll let you know."

"Sounds good. I'm so happy for you, Madi."

"Thanks. Me too."

*

Bellamy and Echo got married at city hall.

At first, he didn't mind telling people this, but now when people find out, they act like it's this big, meaningful thing, like that's why he's divorced now. Getting married at city hall is somehow a sign you shouldn't have gotten married in the first place.

It's bullshit, of course. The wedding was lovely, with all their friends there because the cap of ten guests was enough for all their friends. They had a nice dinner after and it really was one of the best days of Bellamy's life.

The divorce sucked, but that was the right call, and it doesn't make the wedding bad in retrospect. If Madi had asked him, he would have recommended it.

But when the save the date comes a week later, it has a wedding website with information about the farm, and Bellamy sinks a good twenty minutes into googling the area and finds everything is gorgeous and amazing, a perfect picture book location. And they must be saving money on the family farm venue. It's going to be a beautiful day, he's sure.

And yet, for some reason, he keeps on wanting to call Clarke.

After ten more minutes on their registry, he gives up and lets himself find her in his contacts and hit send. The ringtone goes just long enough for him to start panicking, to decide he shouldn't have called at all, but just as he's about to hang up, she says, "Bellamy?"

He runs his hand through his hair. "Hi."

"Hi. What's up?"

Her voice is bright and curious, no hint of hostility that he can detect. If she's upset he's calling her, she's masked it completely.

"I just got the save-the-date."

"Okay," she says, a little hesitant, like she was expecting more from him. "I'm glad it made it."

"Yeah." He wets his lips, wishes he could see her. Maybe she's as unsure as he is. "I just, uh--it's Madi's wedding. I want to help. I was thinking about buying half her registry, but that seemed excessive. And fiscally irresponsible."

"Yeah, leave somethin for the other guests," she teases. "What kind of help were you thinking?"

"I don't know. What do you need for a wedding?"

"Didn't you have a wedding?"

"Not like this. We just went to a justice of the peace. We didn't even dress up that much."

"There are plenty of expenses," Clarke admits. "How much do you want to spend? Or do you just want to donate time?"

"Either." He sighs. "Not to be weird, but I was all ready to go all-out for my sister's wedding and I couldn't, so I think it's all coming out now."

"Yeah, not weird at all." Her voice pitches low, concerned. "How's she doing? Your sister."

It's been such a pleasant conversation up until this point, like any old friends would have. Like her daughter was getting married and he wanted to help, without any hurt between them. They've been so nice, and she still is, but something cracks inside him.

She hasn't asked after him, after Raven or Monty or Murphy or anyone, and she thinks she gets to ask after _Octavia_? 

"None of your business," he says, flat.

"No, sorry," she says, so fast, like maybe she'd been thinking it too. "I can ask Madi if there's anything you can help with. She can get in touch."

His heart is still pounding, rough with adrenaline, but he doesn't want to have a fight. Really, he doesn't. "I figured she'd be busy. I don't want to put more on her plate. That would be a shitty favor."

"I can get in touch, then." It's halfway between a statement and a question, an offer she's not quite making.

The phone might not be their friend right now. "Yeah. She's got my email, I assume she can pass it along."

"Cool." A pause he doesn't want to fill, and then, "Thanks for calling. It means a lot to her."

"Of course, she's still my--"

Words fail him then, because he's never had a good word for Madi. When he takes Jordan places, he says he's his nephew, and it doesn't feel like a lie. Jordan has always called him Uncle Bellamy. 

Madi called him Bellamy, but she calls Clarke Clarke, too. She was too old to fit seamlessly into their dynamic, so she fit imperfectly instead.

"Yeah," says Clarke, saving him. "I'll let you know."

*

The email arrives the next day, the subject line a simple: _Possible things you can do to help with Madi's wedding_. The message itself is clinical, minimalist, just a list of bullet points, but Clarke's snuck in around the edges, little side-notes, the commentary she's never been good at keeping to herself. _Menu assistance (I know you don't trust us to pick food)_ and _transportation (Madi's idea; I told her you hate driving)_. And last, of course, is the one he should pick, the easy one, the safe one. _Money, obviously_.

He should just ask her where he can send the check. He should figure out how much he can afford to give, limit himself to that, and do it. No one could say that was insufficient; if anything, it's excessive. He hasn't seen this girl in six years, and he never had any legal obligation to her.

Which is fucking bullshit. Legality doesn't make a family, or proximity. If Madi called him up in twenty years and said she was getting married, he'd be there with bells on, he'd do whatever he could.

He calls Miller.

"Can't believe it took you this long," Miller says, by way of greeting. Bellamy's seen him a couple times since him since everything happened, but he's been avoiding having long conversations. Miller wasn't totally around for the Clarke thing; he'd been there for Clarke adopting Madi, but he was out of town in grad school when the fight happened, and by the time he got back, lines had been drawn and he was on Bellamy's side. He got it, but not like Raven did. He lived outside it. 

But Miller is his best friend, and he likes to spread his panic out. No one deserves the full brunt of his hysteria. 

"Yeah, yeah. I've been building it up." He lets out a ragged breath. "I shouldn't even go, right?"

"Just to be clear, this is about the wedding, right? I thought that would be a really cool way to answer the phone, but if you've got some other crisis let me know."

Bellamy snorts. "Wow, you just lost all your points."

"I know. So?"

"It's the wedding."

"Fuck, should have let it ride. What about it? You want to hire a fake date? I'll help you out. I've seen that rom-com."

"That's like five rom-coms."

"And I've seen all of them."

He flops on his back on the couch. "Sorry to let you down, but I'm going solo. I did think about it, though."

"So what's the crisis?"

"I'm worried about how invested I am in this. I think I might be projecting Octavia stuff onto Madi."

"Yeah, that checks out." He pauses. "Is that bad?"

"Every therapist I've ever had says my relationship with my sister was deeply unhealthy, so I figure probably yeah."

"Have any of them ever said your relationship with Madi was unhealthy?"

He has, of course, talked about Madi and Clarke with therapists he's seen. That was the proximate cause of his deciding to finally go to therapy, after years of meaning to, because he had a good job and health insurance and some trauma he needed to talk through. The first therapist was, in retrospect, a bad fit, and he came out a few months later convinced the entire thing wasn't for him, right up until the divorce happened and he realized he maybe wasn't doing as well as he thought.

Octavia is the root cause of most of his issues and Luna, his current and favorite therapist, has told him that he saw her in Madi, but no more than he sees her in his students, in his friends, in every person he loves and wants to protect.

 _Protectiveness and caring aren't bad traits_ , she told him once. _But you had to be too protective and caring when you were little, and it became toxic. It's like when you're making a character in a video game, with the sliders? If you go too far either way, things get weird. But you can bring it back to healthy ranges. Good without warping yourself._

He thinks about that a lot.

"Not exactly, but they might."

"Have you talked to the therapist about this yet?"

"Not yet." He shakes his head with a soft huff of laughter. "It's been less than a month. I haven't actually had an appointment since Clarke called."

"You might want to tell her it's an emergency."

"I'm not sure it is."

"If you're worried you're getting too invested--"

Bellamy has to think about that one. "I guess I'm not that worried. I'm happy, and maybe I'm _too_ happy, but I don't think I'm dangerously happy. I'm not doing anything Madi didn't ask me to do."

It's only in Miller's pause that he realizes he hadn't shared that information yet, but before he can say anything, Miller asks, "What did she ask you to do?" with a dangerous kind of tone.

"I asked what I could do and she gave me some suggestions."

"Dude."

"I'm happy for her! I had a fight with Clarke, not Madi."

"Yeah, and where does Clarke fit into you helping out at her daughter's wedding?"

"It doesn't have to be a big deal, right?"

"She broke your heart. Not, like--I'm not saying you were in love with her. You don't have to be dating for someone to break your heart. Your sister broke it first, and then Clarke broke it, and I don't know if it can take another hit like that."

It says something about his life that his divorce wasn't a third heartbreak, but he's not sure it's something bad. He and Echo had a real conversation about it, decided together that this was the right decision.

She hadn't left him; they'd left each other.

"Maybe I should call my therapist," he admits.

"I was hoping that was why you didn't call me. Remembering you had a professional to talk to about this shit."

"No, I just talked to Raven and snapped at Clarke when she asked about my sister. After I called Clarke," he admits.

"Jesus."

"I know."

Miller sighs. "Look, just tell me one thing: do you think this has a happy ending? You and Clarke friends again? You spoiling Madi's potential future kids?"

"I think Madi will keep me on her Christmas-card list." 

"Do you think you're getting Clarke back?"

"Maybe, but that's not _why_. I think we could maybe have a conversation. Or not have a conversation and just start over. But I don't think, like--" He makes a face. "I want to be involved in Madi's wedding because I love Madi and I'm happy for her. I want her to have the best day ever. It has nothing to do with Clarke."

"You know, I actually believe that," says Miller.

"Thanks."

"Still, call your therapist."

"I will." He wets his lips, looks back at Clarke's email. "I was going to give her some cash and volunteer to help with food and any manual labor they've got."

"Sounds like something you should talk to your therapist about."

"I hate you."

"Call me after you talk to her and we'll do this again. But for what it's worth," he adds, thoughtful, "you're way less of a mess than I thought you'd be."

It's a start, anyway. "Cool, thanks."

*

He gets about twenty words into explaining what's going on to Luna before she says, "It's summer vacation for you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Great, I had someone cancel tomorrow, so I have an open slot at eleven. Can you make that?"

"Does this count as an emergency for you?"

"I think you'd feel better if we had an hour dedicated to talking about nothing but this. It feels like more than a phone call, and your appointment isn't until next week."

"Maybe," he grants. "I could do eleven tomorrow."

He shows up ten minutes early, like he always does, with a giant iced coffee because he always gets himself a treat for going to therapy, even though he doesn't really need the motivation anymore. There's something fucked up about needing to buy himself something to make himself feel better about spending money, but that's capitalism for you.

Luna's door is open, a good sign she's free, and when he knocks on the jamb, she waves him in. "Hi, Bellamy. This one's going to be good, huh?"

He closes the door and takes a seat. "Is it bad if I think it will be? Like, an actual positive for my life."

"Optimism is always exciting for you." She studies him, thoughtful. "So, tell me exactly what happened."

"First, Clarke called. She told me Madi was getting married and wanted me there, if I wanted to come. I said I did. Madi called to check in, I told her she could invite the rest of our friend group. I, uh--after I got the save-the-date, I was checking out their wedding website, looking at the registry, and I realized I wanted to be involved. So I called Clarke."

"Why Clarke?"

"I figured Madi would be busy," he says. "She just graduated from college and she's planning a wedding." Luna doesn't say anything, her standard trick to make him keep going, and even though he knows what she's doing, it works on him every time. "And it's not like I wanted to go behind Clarke's back. I still don't know what happened, and even if I think she was an asshole, it's her daughter's wedding. I'd be an asshole if I forced myself into the planning."

She nods. "Okay. How did that go?"

"Mixed. She was being--friendly. Encouraging. And I thought I was fine, but she asked about Octavia and I snapped."

"Because you didn't want to talk about her?"

"Because she didn't ask about anyone else. Me or any of our other friends. It was just Octavia."

"Do you know why she asked? Or was it just out of the blue?"

"I brought her up."

"Octavia?"

He sighs. "Yeah. I said I thought I might be getting invested in Madi's wedding because I couldn't get invested in Octavia's."

"Well," she says, careful. "I can see why she might ask about your sister, given those circumstances."

"I know."

"Did you know at the time?"

He opens and closes his mouth, trying to decide. "No, I don't think so. I wasn't baiting her or anything. She's just easy to talk to. And then she asked about Octavia, and I got annoyed."

"How did Clarke take it?"

"She apologized and changed the subject. And she sent me a list of things I can help out with."

"Anything else?"

"Not really. I want to help with some of them, but I haven't volunteered or anything."

She nods. "Okay, so--how are you feeling? Overall."

"Overall? Okay."

"Are you happy they got in touch?"

"Of course." 

The reaction is immediate and unconscious; he doesn't think about it, doesn't have to. Of course he's fucking happy. He's ecstatic.

Luna smiles. "Noted."

"She was half my kid," he points out. "Or, like, a third. I never wanted to lose her."

"Or Clarke."

"Or Clarke. But with Clarke, at least I fucked something up. Even if I think her response was disproportionate, I know what happened."

Luna taps her pen against her notepad. "Remind me."

"Seriously?"

"We haven't really talked about it since we started our sessions. I want to hear what you're thinking now."

"Compare and contrast?"

"Humor me."

He's thought about it so much, he can't actually believe the story will be any different. He already had the narrative fixed in his mind when he met Luna.

"I did fuck up," he says. "Like--I'm mad at Clarke, but I was the one who started it."

"Stop stalling."

He smiles. "Yeah, I know. Madi got an email from a relative, someone who said they were her cousin. They wanted to meet up, just to talk. I was there when she and Clarke had the fight about it--Madi wanted to go, Clarke thought it was too dangerous. The person found her in a forum for adoptees, so I get it. Clarke said Madi shouldn't have even been there, they had a big fight, Madi asked me if I'd take her."

"And you agreed."

He shrugs. "I never knew my dad's side of the family, I understood what it meant to her. And I didn't know if it was legit, but I knew she deserved the chance to find out. Plus, I was worried if I said no, she'd go alone."

"It doesn't really sound like you think you were wrong," Luna points out.

"Clarke was her legal guardian and she was underage. I didn't take her over state lines, so it wasn't illegal, but it was shitty. And I gave Madi the message that if she didn't like something Clarke said, she could come to me and I'd overrule her. That was shitty too."

"How did the actual meeting go?"

"It was awkward. I do think they were really related, but her cousin was this twenty-year-old guy who was hoping Madi would give him some cash, and Madi didn't really have any. She said she was glad she went, but she didn't think she'd ever see him again."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah, I wish it could have gone better for her."

"So, how did the fight happen?"

"It didn't. I took her home and Clarke was waiting for us. She told Madi to go inside, and once she was in, Clarke followed her, and she didn't say a word to me until she called for the wedding a couple weeks ago."

"You saw Madi again?"

"Just once. I was getting my teaching certificate and I had a couple part-time jobs. She found me at the coffee shop where I worked and told me--she knew it wasn't her fault or my fault, but she couldn't see me again. And that was it."

"Until now."

"Yeah."

"What did you think would happen? Back then."

"I thought we'd have a fight. She'd tell me I was an asshole who put Madi in danger, I'd tell her why I did it, apologize, and--" He sighs. "I thought that if Madi didn't go, she'd never trust either of us again. Or she'd go on her own and get hurt. I thought I made the right decision, and if I could make her understand, we could get through it."

"Do you think you need her to understand why you did what you did?"

"I don't think so. I think it doesn't matter."

"To you or the universe?"

He smiles; it's one of her favorite questions. "Both."

"What about your friends?"

"I don't know. I think if Clarke had just talked to me, they'd be fine. But then I think--what was it like for her? I took her kid and betrayed her trust and everyone took my side."

"That wasn't your fault. You didn't tell anyone to do that, did you?"

"No. Clarke pissed everyone off."

"But you're all going to the wedding."

"Yeah."

"Do you want a relationship with Clarke? Not a romantic one," she clarifies, before he can ask. "Just to have her be a part of your life again."

"I do, yeah. Her and Madi both." He wets his lips. "I've been thinking, uh--Miller said she broke my heart, and I think he's right. But I'm wondering if I broke hers too."

Luna fixes him with her most piercing gaze, the one she uses when her next question really matters. "Do you really think you were wrong? Do you think you fucked up and Clarke was right to be mad?"

"Yeah, no question."

"Then you have to stop thinking of yourself as the wronged party. You don't get to be angry with her for cutting you out of her life."

It's the harshest she's been with him for a while, and he feels it like a blow. "I'm not--"

"She didn't talk to you, and you're angry. I understand that, and I don't blame you. But if you think you were wrong, you won't do yourself any favors holding grudges. If I kicked you and you decided not to listen to my apology because you didn't want to hear it, who would be the person who needed to apologize?"

"If I asked you for an apology six years later, you could tell me to fuck off and be right," he says, with a small smile.

"I could," she agrees. "But if I wanted to be friends with you, why on earth would I?"

*

 **Me** : What does helping with the food even mean?  
Am I personally catering the wedding?

 **Clarke** : Do you want to?

 **Me** : I think she can do better

 **Clarke** : Honestly at this point it's just an item on the to-do list  
Josh's parents know a lot of local food suppliers, so they want to get local stuff and hire someone to cook  
But Josh is worried they'll micromanage and won't enjoy the ceremony  
Madi and I are mostly sitting that argument out

 **Me** : So you're volunteering me to fight with the groom's parents?

 **Clarke** : I'm offering you the opportunity if you want it  
Also they're vegan and say they're open to meat but I'm not sure I trust their judgement

 **Me** : You're afraid the whole wedding will be vegan, huh?

 **Clarke** : You know that episode of Parks and Rec where Chris brings a vegetable loaf instead of cake? That's what I'm picturing

 **Me** : Yeah, I can see why you're worried  
His parents are okay, right? You like them  
In general

 **Clarke** : In general, yeah  
I'm sure the food will be fine

 **Me** : I assume you're stressing out about everything

 **Clarke** : Safe bet

 **Me** : Maybe that can be my job  
Talking you through your crises

He decided to text because it felt like the right level of intimacy, something between a call and an email, and it had been going well, but now he's made this--slightly weird--offer and Clarke isn't responding, and if he'd done this via email, the pause wouldn't feel nearly as long.

When the phone starts to buzz in his hand, the display going black except for Clarke's name, he's so surprised he nearly drops it.

"Hello?"

"Hey," she says. "Sorry, I thought this might be--faster."

"Yeah, no problem. Since we're both around."

"Yeah." She clears her throat. "What do you see yourself doing in this, um, capacity?"

"I figure you could use someone to help you with--stuff," he says. The idea came to him as they were talking and it felt like the right kind of gesture, one that would tell her what he wants to say without his having to say it. "Just what you're worrying about. And you don't want it to be Madi. So whenever you need to freak out, you can text me, and we can come up with a plan."

There's a long pause, during which he can't decide if he overstepped or not. She did ask, and she can always say no. Or tell him she needs something else. It's not a binding agreement.

"Could we get coffee?" is what she finally asks, and Bellamy exhales.

"Yeah. It's summer so I'm pretty free."

"How's now?"

If they don't do it now, they're both just going to be stressing until they do. It's Tuesday afternoon but he hasn't left the protective embrace his AC all day, isn't even fully dressed. He showered, at least, and it won't take long to get throw on some clothes.

"Now works. Where?"

"Flour in Central?"

When he moved in with Echo, he left Cambridge for Brighton, and even after the divorce, he didn't move back. There was a part of him that thought of Cambridge as Clarke's domain, like they'd divided the metro area at the river, each getting half.

He's been to other Flour branches since then, but not the one in Central. That one was theirs.

"I have to get there on public transportation," he says. "So give me like an hour?"

"Sure," she says. "See you soon."

*

Bellamy's lucky with the bus, which means he makes it to Central earlier than anticipated. When he first realizes, he toys with the idea of warning Clarke, but it seems kind of pointless. Their old place was near Central, but it's been six years. She might have moved. She might not be able to get there any earlier.

For the first time, it occurs to him that he doesn't know what her life looks like. If she's seeing anyone, if she's moved, even what she's doing. He thinks of her life as stationary, frozen since he last saw her, but she'll be different.

It's not like he asked how she was doing either.

As soon as he opens the door to Flour, he spots her, so settled into her table he has to wonder if she's been there all day. Her hair is shorter, cut just below her chin, held back from her face with a few bobby pins. She's got what he assumes are her reading glasses on, and the thin line she gets between her eyebrows when someone is wrong on the internet.

Fuck, he missed her. _Fuck_.

Part of him wants to run, to go and regroup, to call Luna or Miller or Raven and tell them it's an emergency. He cleared this plan with absolutely no one, and suddenly it feels like he should have at least let a friend know where he was in case he somehow never comes back. 

Instead, he goes to the table, and when Clarke looks up, he smiles. "Hi."

Her face opens like the sunrise, and the relief hits him in the chest. They're happy to see each other. That's a good place to start.

"Hi. Thanks for coming out. Are you still in Brighton?"

"Brookline, so close enough. Are you still around here?"

Her smile falters, just a ripple of tension. "Same place, yeah. I might sell once Madi and Josh have settled."

He wets his lips. "I've got a billion questions, but--let me get a coffee first?"

"Yeah, of course."

By the time he comes back with his drink and a cookie, Clarke has cleared the laptop and lost the glasses. She looks bright and interested, and for the first time, he thinks they could maybe really just--forget. If she's forgiven him and he's forgiven her, maybe they don't have to talk about it. Maybe it really doesn't matter anymore.

"So, where are Madi and Josh settling?"

"New York, but not until fall. Josh is going to law school, Madi has a summer internship on campus and she's looking for full-time stuff."

"What field?"

"Environmental activism."

"Good for her." He wets his lips. "What about you? Are you still illustrating?"

"Living my best trust-fund kid life," she says, her mouth twisting with the familiar discomfort.

"Better than living your worst trust-fund-kid life," he shoots back, and she smiles.

"That's true."

They had this conversation before she finished college, when she was trying to make herself believe it was okay if she didn't go to med school. "Unless you're giving all your money away, it doesn't really matter if you have the best job in the world or the worst one," he told her. "Make yourself happy and do some good with the money."

The first year they lived together, he paid almost nothing in rent, and every month they took the interest from her investments and picked a random charity to donate it to. And then she got Madi, and the money went to her college fund instead, and Bellamy figured Clarke was doing plenty of good in the world.

"What about you?" she asks. "Still teaching?"

"Somehow. I keep worrying I'm going to burn out, but as long as our admin stays the same, I should survive. My first principal was an asshole, but this one actually wants to support his staff."

"What a concept," she teases.

"It's so much less common than you'd think." He clears his throat, breaks off a piece of cookie. "Octavia is--complicated," he says, deliberate. "She calls now, checks in. She's finally convinced that if I know where she is, I won't track her down."

"Do you ever get to see her?"

"Christmas, sometimes." He shrugs. "I actually picked a fight a few years ago."

"Really?"

It feels like dangerous ground, even though it's not the same thing at all. "It was just after the divorce. She came back because she didn't want me to be alone, but the whole time--" He sighs. "She acted like she was doing me this huge favor, and I didn't even ask her to. I would have been fine. We ended up just throwing our shitty childhoods at each other until we ran out of stuff to say. It sucked at the time, but I think it helped."

"Wow."

"I also have a therapist now. Highly recommended."

She laughs, but she's looking at her coffee. "Can I ask about the divorce?"

"Not much to say. We had a bad year. Echo lost her job and decided she needed to be somewhere else, and I didn't want to leave. We went back and forth for a few months and finally decided the relationship wasn't working. She lives in California and sometimes we text each other about _Survivor_." 

"You always did have the easiest breakups," she says, wistful, and she's not _wrong_ , exactly.

Like Miller said, it's not his relationships that break his heart.

"What about you?" he asks. "Any trauma you want to fill me in on?"

"Madi went to college, that was tough."

"Where was she again?" 

"Brown. It was kind of worse than if she was farther away, honestly? I knew she could have come home on weekends but she didn't, and I knew I could drive down, but it would be weird. So I didn't see her, but I missed her all the time."

"So New York will be a little better. Since she's farther away."

"A little, yeah." She meets his eyes, deliberate, and it's still enough to rock him, all that intense focus. "So, you want to talk me through my first crisis?"

"Is it about vegetable loaves?"

She's not letting him break her focus. "Seating charts."

"How many guests are there?"

"About fifty. Ten from each family, and then thirty friends. About. Five tables with ten people each makes the most sense, but that puts me at your table. Which--"

On the one hand, it seems absurd that she'd be anywhere else. On the other, he's the only one of the people at the table she's talked to in six years, and even they're still painfully awkward.

But he wants to try, and most everyone will follow his lead.

"Raven is still pissed at you."

"I figured, yeah."

"Everyone else will follow our lead, but--you probably need to talk to her. I can't patch that one up on my own."

"No, probably not." She taps her pen on her cup. "If I can't sit with you, there should be room with Josh's family. I think they've just got nine. It'll just be awkward if Wells can make it."

"You don't even want to try?"

She smiles. "Always have a plan B."

The urge to ask her what happened with her and Raven is so strong that the words nearly burst out of him; he takes a sip of coffee instead. "Solid advice. Is that the only seating crisis?"

"The only one I have to deal with. I told Madi and Josh they have to seat their friends themselves."

"That seems fair." He frowns. "Your mom isn't coming?"

"She's living in Japan now. She offered to fly back, but she and Madi negotiated and she's paying for them to come out there for their honeymoon over spring break."

"Jesus. Good deal. And I don't have to see your mom."

"She likes you now."

"Wow, absence really does make the heart grow fonder. Probably good she's not coming back to ruin it."

Clarke laughs, short and soft, and something in his chest constricts.

He might be in trouble.

*

The conversation is mostly logistical after that. Clarke gets her laptop back out so she can show him all the spreadsheets she's made, all the planning she can't help doing. He advises her as best he can, tries not to smile too much as she explains, as she tells him all the calls she made, all the eventualities she's ready for.

When they're done, they both stand, and there's this awkward moment of feeling like they should be doing more that stretches and stretches until he finally says, "I feel like we should hug."

She laughs. "It feels like that, right?" 

It's like he forgot what hugging even _is_ , like he no longer knows what to tell his limbs to do to make it happen. But she steps in half an inch and his instincts take over. He wraps his arms around her and she settles against his chest and he just breathes for a second.

The resentment and hurt aren't gone, but none of the other feelings are either. It's like his relationship with Clarke was frozen in amber, and now it's come back out, intact and unchanged. For better and worse.

"Okay," she says, stepping back and smiling a little. "So--we'll be in touch?"

"Yeah. Just text me all your issues and we'll figure something out."

"Cool. Thanks, Bellamy."

He texts Raven on the bus: _You want to get booze with me right now_ , and she agrees. It's early for dinner, but they're old, so they just agree to go to their favorite restaurant and get drinks and apps and see where the mood takes them.

He's only a little surprised when he arrives and finds she's brought Shaw. He likes Shaw more than any of Raven's other boyfriends and just as much as he liked Gina, her only girlfriend, and it's not like he can't hear this conversation. He's coming to the wedding too. And they've definitely told him about Clarke. It's probably for the best.

"Hey," he says, sliding into the booth across from them.

"Hey, what's the crisis?"

"I got coffee with Clarke."

Her eyes narrow. "Why?"

"Because my therapist said I need to stop thinking she owes me an apology."

"Jesus."

"She can owe you one," he adds. "But--I did something bad and she couldn't forgive me. I thought she would, but that doesn't make me the injured party." 

Raven's jaw works. "So, you're just--good with her now?"

"I'm trying to be."

"So, let me make sure I actually know what happened," says Shaw. Raven calls him Zeke, but he introduces himself as Miles, so Bellamy has just settled on calling him by last name, because he's sure about that one. "Bellamy took his and Clarke's kid--"

"Her kid."

"She was at least a third yours," says Raven. "You were living there for four years, Bellamy. And even after you moved out, you were still a part of her life."

"Legally, her kid," he says, firm. 

"Fuck," says Shaw, with feeling. "I didn't even get through a _sentence_. He took Madi somewhere Clarke didn't think she should go. To meet a relative," he adds, before Raven can say anything. "I know, Clarke should have agreed in the first place. And then she didn't talk to him for six years?"

"Yeah. I knew she'd be mad," he adds.

"And you tried to mediate," Shaw says, nodding to Raven.

"I told her she shouldn't drop her best friend for doing the right thing for her daughter, especially not when Madi was his kid too. She said I didn't get it."

"But you did," says Shaw, which is news to Bellamy. "You forgave Finn."

Understanding comes like rusty gears, his brain struggling to fit the pieces together. Clarke and Raven met in college because Clarke was sleeping with Raven's boyfriend. The whole thing had been enough of a mess that Bellamy still doesn't feel like he has a great understanding of the dynamics--he was still a periphery member of the group, back then--although from what he could tell Finn's reasoning was basically the _we were on a break_ thing from _Friends_ , but with a less explicit break. Raven had managed to stay friends with both of them, still considers Finn family, even, but she and Clarke never talked about him.

Raven probably expected invoking Finn's name to be a slam dunk, but Clarke didn't listen to her.

"I told her she needed to talk to you," he says. "That whatever happened between the two of you--"

"I'm not going to make a fucking scene at Madi's wedding."

"I know." He rubs his face. "I miss her. Fuck, Raven, I--"

Her jaw drops. "You fucking dumbass," she says, and he shrugs one shoulder, helpless.

"Yeah. That's me."

*

He doesn't call Luna because it's not a crisis and he doesn't call Miller because he'd tell him to call Luna, and he doesn't call Raven because his issues are his own, and what happened between her and Clarke wasn't really about him.

Which makes him feel better, if he's honest. It always sucked, feeling as if he had cost Clarke all her friends, especially when he'd understood where she was coming from. It wasn't his place to make anyone's decisions for them, and he couldn't have stopped them, but it still made him twinge.

But Raven had her own falling out with Clarke, her own life and her own reasons for being upset. The world doesn't revolve around him. And he doesn't need anyone to talk him through what's going on. He can handle it on his own.

For now, anyway.

Clarke texts fairly regularly, first just about wedding stuff, but as the conversations keep going and nothing goes wrong, she gains confidence. She texts him about a project she's working on, so he texts her about the video game he's playing. It's like riding a bike, getting back into contact with her, so easy he doesn't know how he went without for so long.

Not that he wanted to, of course.

The deeper feelings he has for her are tentative, pricklier and more complicated. It feels like picking up where they left off and not, all at once, because he wasn't _in love_ when they had the fight, and he isn't now, but now he could be. Now, he has no one else, and she has no one else, and there are six years of lost time gaping between them, six years where he was never happier without her than he would have been with her. Six years of wondering if he tried to call her just one more time, if she'd pick up.

And now he knows that if he gets in touch, she'll respond, and he never wants to wonder again.

They don't see each other in person for another two weeks, when Clarke invites him to come to the cake tasting. _Madi and Josh will be there, she really wants to see you_ , she adds, like he needs coaxing. Like he wouldn't go just to try to figure out how he's feeling about her.

The bakery is out of the city, which means he has to drive, which is the real sign that he loves these people, because if Bellamy had his way, he would never drive in the greater Boston area, and would drive as little as possible everywhere else too.

But Madi is the one who spots him, and she lights up with such immediate joy at the sight of him that his bad mood immediately evaporates.

"Bellamy!" she cries, and throws herself at him for a hug, grinning. "Hi!"

"Hey, Madi. Congratulations."

"Thanks!" She lets him go, looks him up and down, assessing, and he assesses her right back. The physical differences between a sixteen-year-old and a twenty-two-year-old aren't as stark as they would be if she'd been a younger teenager the last time he saw her--she isn't any taller, and her features haven't changed much. But she does carry herself differently, more confident but also _easier_ , as if she's grown into her own skin.

She's still a kid, obviously. But she's getting there.

"You look old," she says. "Is that gray hair?"

He wraps his arm around her shoulders and squeezes. "You're a brat. Where's your fiance?"

He's obvious, of course, the nervous young man standing next to Clarke, shifting back and forth on his feet. He's white, which isn't surprising given what Bellamy knows of the demographics of Western Massachusetts, with messy, honey-colored hair and a shy smile. There's not a lot to go on, but of course Bellamy likes him. Madi's going to marry him; he must be pretty great.

"Josh, this is Bellamy. Bellamy, Josh."

Josh offers his hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Don't call him that," says Madi. "It's weird. I bet your students call you _Mr. Blake_."

"Yeah, that's generally what students call their teachers. It would be weirder if they called me Bellamy. But that's what you should call me," he tells Josh. "Clarke said you're going to law school?"

"Yeah, NYU."

It takes them a little while to figure out the dynamics in play. Both Bellamy and Josh are outsiders in their own way, not sure how they fit in with the others as a unit. And Josh is a little quiet, shy and reserved, apparently more comfortable taking a back seat.

Still, Madi is confident and talkative, and Bellamy can easily see how she and Josh work together, the clear affection between them. He still thinks they're a little young to be getting _married_ , but he got married at thirty-three and divorced at thirty-six, so it's not like he has much room to talk. Age doesn't guarantee good judgment or future prosperity.

It's impossible not to think of his own marriage, under the circumstances. He and Echo got a nice enough cake, but they didn't do all this stuff, and he doesn't think he'd do anything differently, if he could go back. But it's still nice, seeing how excited Madi and Josh are about it, watching them debate the pros and cons of red velvet and chocolate, with Madi putting in an earnest bid for finding someone who will do confetti, because they're _celebrating_.

"I'm buying them dinner," Clark says, once they're done. "Do you want to come?"

He does, this small ache in the pit of his stomach growing as he thinks of going home. A couple hours isn't long enough. There's a part of his brain that still thinks if he leaves them now, he won't get them back.

Which is why he smiles, the regret in his expression genuine, and says, "I've got plans tonight. Rain check?"

He knows he doesn't imagine the disappointment that flashes across Clarke's face, the slight wince of hurt. She thinks she went too far, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to say.

What he comes up with is, "Did you talk to Raven?"

"No. Should I call her?"

"Probably not." He wets his lips. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"No real plans."

"Maybe we could get a drink. I'll see who else is around and wants to come. If you want."

"Can we limit it to, like--three other people? At most?" Her smile is a delicate thing. "I don't hang out with big groups much these days."

His first, awful thought is that she has no one to blame for that but herself, but that's the thing about bad first thoughts. You can realize they're bad and forget them.

"Honestly, we don't usually get much more than that anyway. We're getting old, everyone's busy." He smiles. "I'll text you?"

"Sounds good."

He shakes Josh's hand and congratulates him again, gives Madi another hug, and then he gets in his car and tries to shake the feeling that he's leaving his family behind him.

*

Octavia calls in the middle of his text exchange with Raven arguing about whether or not she's coming for drinks, because when it rains, it pours.

"Hi, O."

"Hey, Bell. Can you look something up for me?"

"There's no way you can use a phone but not use google."

"The library's closed, that's where I get my internet."

"Let me get my laptop."

Octavia started the _I need you to use the internet for me_ game four years ago, give or take, and at this point, they both know it's total bullshit. She lives what she calls a _minimal technology life_ , which means she doesn't have wifi or cable and spends most of her time making swords that her friend sells at his stall in a traveling ren faire. 

When Bellamy thinks about it too much, his skin starts to itch, so he tries not to think about it.

Regardless, they both know she must have dozens of way to find information that aren't calling him, but he'll only protest so much. It's nice, to be developing new in-jokes and rituals. 

"I'm trying to remember who the guy was who was in that Disney Channel show about the sketch comedy."

"What."

"He had this really funny, douchey name? And I can't remember what it was. It was definitely three parts."

"Yeah, this is important. I'm glad you came to me." He googles _disney channel sketch comedy_ , frowns. "Was it a sketch comedy or a show _about_ a sketch comedy?"

"About a sketch comedy. It was, like--Disney Channel _30 Rock_? It was on when I was living in that co-op, we watched it ironically."

"I think they made a spin-off that was actually just the sketch comedy, so that was throwing me off. How did this come up?"

"How does anything come up? I was at a party, we were talking about Disney shows. Did you know there's a gay kid on one now?"

"Yeah, I talked about it with some students. Chad Dylan Cooper?"

"Yes, thank you! That's the exact douchey name."

"Apparently the actor is named Sterling Knight, so they probably could have just kept that."

"No, three names it the ideal douche number. Two isn't enough, four is too many."

"I had no idea."

"I'm here to educate. So what's up? How's your summer? Are you doing anything exciting or just sitting at home getting drunk with Miller?"

He takes a second to savor the moment. "I actually just came from a cake-tasting."

"Like for a wedding?"

"Yeah. Madi's getting married."

There's a long pause, and then she says, "Who?"

She really knows how to ruin every moment. "Madi. Clarke's kid."

"I thought they disowned you."

"Clarke did, Madi didn't. But it's been six years, we're mending bridges."

"Huh. Are you happy? Am I happy for you?"

"Those are two different questions. I can only answer the first one."

"And?"

"Yeah, I'm happy." He sighs, leans back, closing his eyes. "It's weird, but it might be good. It's definitely not bad."

"Wow. That's not exactly a ringing vote of confidence, Bell."

"It's complicated. I'll let you know when I figure it out."

"How's Clarke doing?"

"I don't know," he admits. "Not great, I don't think. I'm not sure--" He sighs. "I got everyone when we had the fight. All our friends. I don't know if she got new ones. I think she's lonely."

"So what, she got desperate and decided to take you back?"

It's rich, coming from her, but he doesn't say that. "No, Madi just wanted me at her wedding, and I wanted to be there." He pauses. "And I missed her. If I can be a part of her life again, I want to be."

"What does someone have to do for you to give up on them?" she asks, sounding almost exasperated. 

He did give up on her, and Clarke too. He gave up on both of them, and he's ready, always, for them to leave again. He doesn't believe Octavia will always call him like this.

But as long as she does, he'll answer. Ignoring her wouldn't make his life better.

"If I figure it out, I'll let you know."

*

Bellamy gets to the restaurant half an hour before they're supposed to meet and nearly goes even earlier because he absolutely does not want to leave Clarke and Raven unsupervised, or only supervised by Shaw--or, god forbid, Murphy. It's going to be awkward enough if nothing goes wrong; he's going to do his best to make sure nothing does.

So, of course, everyone is late.

"I'm not even sure they'll show," says Murphy, taking a swig of his beer. He was only five minutes late, which counts as early for him. "Which sucks. I wanted to watch a fight tonight. I know Raven's got a bum leg, but my money is still on her."

"Shut up, Murphy," he says, absent. 

"Hey, this is probably better than them fighting at the wedding. It's even far enough away that all the bruises will have faded for the pictures. Good plan."

"Thanks." He takes a drink of his own beer, glances around like now will be the time Clarke suddenly appears. He'd like it to be her, then Raven and Shaw. That seems like the safest order. "I guess I could do worse for a date night than you."

"You wish you could get this."

"Yeah, I ache for you." He sighs. "There's Raven."

"Wow, tell me how you really feel."

Bellamy ignores him as Raven slides into the booth. She's sitting next to Murphy, which makes sense, but it feels a little too much like battle lines. Which doesn't even make _sense_ ; Murphy isn't actually invested in this, and Bellamy feels like no man's land.

"Where's the princess?" Raven asks. The college nickname has never sounded more bitter. "No show?"

"Running late."

"Likely story."

"You're one to talk."

"Yeah, I knew I didn't want to be here." She steals Murphy's beer and takes a drink, makes a face. "Jesus. Why do you drink this shit?"

"Because I know you'll take it."

"That's such a bad plan. Why don't you just drink something you actually like?"

He raises his glass. "Anything to ruin your day. Speaking of which, hey Clarke."

Bellamy and Raven both do almost comical double-takes, like they're in a sitcom, and Clarke looks like she'd like to be absorbed by the wall or the floor, whichever will do it faster. She looks so small and alone, silhouetted by the open door, and Bellamy's heart lurches.

He's not no-man's-land. He's on her side. Somehow, he's always on her side.

Like a switch being flipped, Clarke stops being uncomfortable. Her shoulders square, her jaw tightens, and her face smooths out, a pleasant smile pasted over steel. She looks like she's walking into battle, and he's equal parts impressed and heartbroken, because they used to be _friends_. It shouldn't be like this.

"Hey," she says. "Long time no see."

"Interesting start," says Murphy. "See, I would have downplayed the years of awkwardness and bad blood, but that's just me."

"I don't really think of you as a role model, Murphy."

He lets out a surprised bark of laughter, like he wasn't actually expecting her to snap back, and Bellamy hides his grin in his beer. Of course Clarke can still take care of herself.

Except that Raven isn't smiling.

"Yeah, that's fair," Murphy is saying. "I don't really think of myself as a role model either. How's the kid?"

"The kid is good. Back in Providence again, but she'll be here next weekend to do more wedding stuff. How's Emori doing?"

"Not bad. She said she was sorry she couldn't come, but she didn't want to." He glances at Raven. "Where's Miles, anyway? I wanted to ask him about Fallout."

"Also didn't want to come." She flags down the waiter and orders a drink, and Clarke gets one too, and they settle back into the brittle companionship of before.

Bellamy's trying to come up with a conversation starter when Raven says, "So, why aren't you pissed at Bellamy anymore?"

"Raven--"

"What? I want to know?"

Clarke's eyes cut to Bellamy and then back to her own hands on the table. "It's been six years. I'm allowed to get over it, right?"

"You ever tell him that?"

"Raven, seriously."

"I'm still pissed at her, why wouldn't she still be pissed at you?"

"That's not--"

"I am," says Clarke, clear as a bell. "I am still upset. But it's not--I can be upset, but I get it. Madi and I talked about it a lot, and I still--it was one of the worst days of my life, when that happened. The whole time they were gone, I was wondering--if they were okay, if it was a trap, if something terrible had happened to them. And I was really angry at him, for a long time."

Bellamy swallows. "I'm sorry."

"I know." She shrugs. "It sucked, and I'm not saying it _stopped_ sucking. But yeah, it hurts less, and no, I never told him. I didn't think he wanted to hear it."

Silence descends over the table, and Bellamy realizes slowly that he's the one who's supposed to be talking. It's his line, but it feels like he doesn't know any words anymore. His entire vocabulary has fled.

"Cool, good talk," is what finally comes out, and Murphy snorts.

"Man, this is already so much better than I thought it would be."

"Thanks." But it's enough to get his brain in gear; he fixes Raven with a look. "I don't need this," he says, making every word drip with intention. "I don't have to have this conversation. If you do, then have your conversation, not mine."

This silence is thick and heavy, a black velvet silence. It doesn't feel like anything could break it, feels like it will smother them all to death.

And then Murphy takes the loudest slurp of beer in human history, and the silence pops. Raven laughs, and Clarke laughs, and Bellamy says, "Jesus, Murphy."

"No one else was doing anything. Not even fighting." He looks around for the waiter. "I want nachos. Who's in?"

It doesn't magically stop being awkward, but it does become manageable. Everyone knows where they stand, and it's a place they can live, at least for now. The fretful older brother in Bellamy wants to try to nudge Raven and Clarke to a reconciliation, but Clarke is a block of ice and Raven is a raw nerve; now really isn't the time.

Maybe it won't ever be the time. Maybe they don't get to be friends again. Bellamy is out of his depth on this one; he can't know what invoking Finn cost Raven, and he can't know how much Clarke rejecting that hurt. 

When Clarke is in the bathroom, he slides over so he's across from Raven. "I'm sorry."

"For which part?"

"That I can't be on your side for this."

Raven considers that. "You don't have to be. This isn't some ride-or-die, her-or-me BS. I'm not asking you to back me up. And I'm sorry I made it about you."

"It's fine. I still don't get it," he admits. "Why she reacted how she did. But I don't need that."

"You'd rather have her back."

"Even if I don't get her back, I don't need it."

She nods, more decision than agreement. "You should leave."

He chokes on nothing. "What?"

"You and Murphy go. After she gets back, you don't have to ditch her with no explanation. But she and I need to talk, and I can't do that with you waiting for us to make up."

"Wait, I can't stay?" Murphy asks. "Come on."

"Nope. Private. We'll either work it out, or--" She shrugs. "We'll figure out how to coexist."

Of course, he wants to stay too, but not as much as he wants this to work. Which means--

"Yeah, we'll take off."

"Speak for yourself."

"Murphy."

"Jesus, I was joking. You know I'm scared of Reyes."

Clarke slides back in a minute later, and Bellamy's the one to say, "So, uh, Murphy and I are going to head out."

"Unless you want me to stay," says Murphy. "You know, as a moderator."

"I think we'll be fine," says Clarke, looking straight at Raven for the first time tonight. "Right?"

Raven raises her glass. "Only one way to find out."

* 

Bellamy gets the text on the bus home, just two words from Raven: _We're cool_.

He wants paragraphs of explanations. He wants a long-form essay, a novel, an epic poem.

But he'll take this.

*

"So, I'm probably in love with Clarke," he tells Luna at their next appointment. He's pretty sure all his friends know, or at least strongly suspect, but this is the first time he's said it in his entire life in the present tense.

It doesn't feel good, exactly, but it feels necessary.

"I thought that would take you another session at least."

"Maybe I'm maturing."

"How are things going with her?"

"Good, I think. I'm helping with wedding stuff, we're talking a lot." He sighs. "We had a pretty intense thing with Raven. Raven was pushing her, asking what changed, why she forgave me, and she basically said she didn't, but it didn't bother her anymore. And I said I didn't need to know more."

"But you do?"

"I need to know--how we move forward. If she wants to. If she's going to be my friend or--"

"If she could be more."

"If I'm even going to see her after the wedding. Sometimes I think she's happy to have me back, that she wants me to be a part of her life. That she missed me as much as I missed her. And then I--don't."

"Why not?"

"Because she left me before. And I don't know what's going to keep her from doing it again if something goes wrong."

Luna nods. "So, here's what I think: you want to know what happened, even if you're telling yourself you don't. But you also want to just move on, because it's history. What's done is done."

"Pretty much."

"I think you should decide what you need from her to move forward. Maybe you don't need to know why she wouldn't listen to you before. But you need to know if she'd do it again, if you had another fight."

"I do, yeah." His breath shakes out. "You know, I didn't want to ask, but--I think I thought she'd tell me. If we got to be friends again, it would just come up naturally."

"And it might. But living your life based on assumptions about what other people will do isn't a good way to make sure you get what you need."

"Yeah."

"So, what else do you need from her? We've barely even talked about you being in love with her, and that's what you opened with. How does that look to you?"

"Honestly? I don't want it to be a part of this. Me and her--I don't want it to be about how I feel. It's not like I'm done with her if she doesn't feel the same."

"What if it's she's done with you?"

"Like she doesn't want to be friends if I'm in love with her?"

"Hypothetically."

"Why are you asking?" he finally asks. "Like--what are you hoping to learn from this question?"

"A couple things. First, if you're planning to repress your own feelings to keep from alienating her. Second, how you see this fitting into your long-term future. You haven't really dated in the time you've been seeing me. This is the first time you've indicated you might want to date someone, and it's a big jump. You aren't signing up for Tinder, you're in love."

"I probably was before, too," he admits. "At some point."

"Oh, yeah. I'm not doubting your feelings, just wondering how you see them influencing things."

"I used to think about--there were a few times I thought about asking her. If she wanted more. Telling her I did. And I never convinced myself it was worth the risk. And now--I'm just getting her back."

"So there are two ways to look at this. That's one, that getting her back is the most important thing and you shouldn't let your feelings jeopardize that. But the other is that you're already fractured, and now is the time when it would hurt least to lose her, if this will ruin things. And I don't think one of those is right and the other is wrong. I just think those are two ways to think about it."

"Which brings us back to what I do if it is a dealbreaker."

"Yeah. You don't have to have an answer to that today. But I think you need to have one, and you need to know what that means for your relationship."

"Thanks, I hate it."

Luna smiles. "If you think that's bad, I was thinking we could go to appointments every two weeks instead of every month. Just until the wedding."

He also hates that, but that's beside the point. "That's probably a good idea. I don't want to make all my friends miserable venting to them."

"How are they doing with Clarke?"

"She and Raven made peace. After the other thing. I still don't know what that means, either. I don't think they're friends, but they figured out their issues. Everyone else--" He shrugs. "They're following our lead. No one's exactly rushing to hang out with her."

"You are."

His mouth twitches and his chest warms. "I'm trying not to. I don't want to be too much."

"Okay, well--I think you should try that."

"I should, huh?"

"Don't play it cool. You want her back in your life, you want to spend more time with her. Don't show up at her place with a boom box or anything, but--try showing her what you want this friendship to look like going forward. Instead of worrying you're going to scare her off."

"I thought I was supposed to keep my affection slider in the middle," he says, only half joking.

Luna regards him. "I trust you with your feelings for her."

To his embarrassment, tears prick his eyes. Even with Octavia, Luna's been pretty good about giving him credit for doing the best with the resources he had, for doing well letting go of people. She hasn't had to talk him out of being too much with Octavia; he's been drawing those boundaries on his own.

She might be _right_ , to tell him he can handle this.

"Thanks," he says, lacking any other word.

"You're welcome," she says. "You're doing a lot better than you were, Bellamy. I don't think I tell you that enough. It's hard to remember, because you'd done a lot of the work by the time you got to me. You'd already figured out that you needed to step away from your sister and that it wasn't healthy for you to try to chase after her. But if Clarke is responding to your friendship, you don't have to pull back. You're not pushing yourself on her as long as she's welcoming you."

"You're not bad at this therapist thing."

"Thanks. So, next appointment in two weeks?"

He laughs. "Yeah, sounds right."

After he's done, he texts Clarke: _Want to go to a movie tonight? I feel like doing something_.

It doesn't even take her a minute to agree, to ask if he wants to grab dinner first, and Bellamy grins up at the sky.

Welcome. That's a nice word for it.

*

In the two weeks before his next appointment with Luna, he thinks about his feelings for Clarke a lot. It feels like that's all he does, if he's honest, but it's August. School doesn't start for another month, and he's in good shape with his lesson plans. He doesn't have a lot of obligations other than thinking about his personal life. Better to figure it out before the new school year starts.

But by the time he's back in her office, he's seen Clarke three times, texted her every day, and decided he needs to wait.

"Just until after the wedding," he says. "For one thing, it hasn't been that long, and I could just be--I could be wrong. I should make sure I'm not just glad to have her back or whatever. And this was also supposed to be about Madi, you know? I don't want to have to skip her wedding because I fucked things up with Clarke."

He's expecting an argument, or at least a conversation, but Luna just nods. "I think that makes a lot of sense."

It leaves him in a weird state of limbo, antsy with the feeling he should be doing something but just as sure that this _is_ the right decision. He has no idea what he's going to say to Clarke after the wedding, but whatever it is, he shouldn't say it before then, and he probably should say it after.

Because that's what he finds most striking about the whole thing. It's not that he's been unhappy, these last few years, no more than he was happy the whole time he knew Clarke. It's more that it feels as if the world has more texture, like there's another dimension that only exists when she's around. Like he was half asleep, and now he's awakened to find the everything newly vibrant and alive around him.

Which seems like the kind of thing she should know.

Raven apparently agrees, because she drags him out for drinks about a week before classes start and says, "You haven't vented to me in weeks."

"Miller reminded me I have a therapist and I can vent to her."

"Like you can ever vent enough."

"I didn't think you wanted to talk about it," he says. "I know you and Clarke are cool, I figured if either of you needed me involved in it, you would have told me. But I know it's not exactly--" He sighs. "If I didn't want to be her friend, you wouldn't have even tried."

"But you do, right? You want her to stick around."

"Yeah."

"Look, I'm not--I still think she fucked up, six years ago. She made a shitty choice, and knowing why she made that choice doesn't fix it. She didn't have to do that. But--I get it now."

His heart lodges in his throat. "You know what happened?"

"Yeah." She looks down at her drink. "So, I asked if you were ever in love with her before, and I haven't been asking again because I didn't want to know. But I'm asking now."

"I told my therapist I was," he says. "I think that makes it official."

Her laugh is harsh with surprise. "What did she say?"

"We have hour-long sessions, we say a lot. You could just tell me what you want to know. It would be faster."

"What's the plan?"

"I tell her after the wedding," he says. "I haven't figured out what exactly, but if shit goes wrong, I don't want to ruin Madi's big day. And if she doesn't feel the same--" He shrugs. "At least I tried."

Her jaw works as she watches him, and hope surges somewhere in his chest. Raven's got the answer, and she's thinking about giving it to him. She thinks she _should_.

"I don't think you need to wait," she finally says. "You can tell her now, it'll be fine."

He opens and closes his mouth. "Fine how?"

"How many ways are there to be fine?" She's deliberately not looking at him. "You didn't sort my shit with her out, I'm not doing yours for you. But if she was here, I'd leave so the two of you could have a fucking conversation, okay? And I'd say you should just tell her everything. Get it out there. And I promise you will not ruin Madi's wedding."

It takes a couple tries to make his throat work. "How much does it piss you off that you have to do this?"

"Ask me again when you've got your shit figured out and I'll let you know."

"Yeah." He glances at his phone; it's only six-ten. They had dinner as a maybe. "You think I should text her?"

"It's not like I wanted to hang out with you anyway."

"Seriously, did you drag me out just to find out if I was in love with Clarke? You could have texted. I figured you already knew."

"Maybe I wanted a drink." She shifts a little, her typical discomfort with emotional scenes shining through. "Honestly? It's been weird. I don't know where I am with her, and that feels like I don't know where I am with you either. I wasn't even sure how I was gonna feel about it."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Raven. We can get dinner, I don't have to--"

"Dude," she says, all fondness. "Go. I'm not worried."

"No?"

"Your best friend ghosted you six years ago, and it takes you, what, two months to decide you're in love with her? Without even knowing what happened? I'm not going to lose you."

"Never," he agrees. "Can you at least get your boyfriend to have dinner with you?"

"Stop stalling and text her, dick."

"I love you," he says, and pecks her cheek. "I'm leaving you forty bucks for dinner."

"I'll take twenty. I know you're not actually rich, you gotta stop acting like it. We could take advantage of you so easily."

"I know you wouldn't, though."

"Not yet. But anything's possible."

"Not anything."

She smiles, warm and unguarded, a treasure. "No, not anything."

*

He asks Clarke if he can come over, and she texts back that he has to bring dinner. They go back and forth on what to eat, and she ends up ordering takeout for Bellamy to pick up on his way over. The timing works out pretty well, leaving him with minimal time to think and stress and wonder what the fuck he's going to do.

When he does have time, he still tries not to, because every time he does, his brain tries to figure out _what the fuck Clarke told Raven_. It had to be good, right? Encouraging? She lost him all those years ago and realized she loved him when Madi asked about the wedding. It's got to be something concrete, for Raven to have told him to go for it before the wedding. She has to feel the same, somehow.

Clarke opens the door with a bright smile, and he doesn't kiss her, but he wants to. How is it even possible he's never kissed Clarke Griffin?

"Hey," he says.

"Hi. Bored or lonely?"

He pauses, not sure when in the evening is appropriate for love confessions. Probably after dinner; the food might get cold. "Hungry."

"Uh huh." She leads him into the kitchen. "What do you want to drink? I've got a lot of booze and less non-booze."

"Whatever craft cider you're into right now."

She grabs him one and they get settled on the couch. She still watches _Wheel of Fortune_ and _Jeopardy_ from seven to eight, so they leave those on. She asks if he's ready for school to start, which he is on a practical level but not a psychological one, and he asks what she's working on right now. They talk about the new apartment Madi and Josh found in New York and the job interviews Madi has lined up and the whole time all he can think is that this is it. This is exactly what he wants. 

They clean up and grab a second round of drinks and he half-watches the TV as he tries to figure out what to say. It's been a long time since he told someone he was interested, and he's never done it like this, after years apart and more years of strange togetherness before that. It's not like he wants a _date_.

"Are you and Raven really good?" is what he finally asks.

"We're--fine," she says, hedging her bets. "I don't know if we're ever going to be friends like we used to be, but we can be--fine."

"What about us?"

Her face is smooth as glass. "What about us?"

"Are we going to be like it was before?"

"I don't know." She bites her lip. "I know I hurt you."

"Yeah, but apparently I was responsible for the worst day of your life, so--"

"Still."

"Would you do it again?"

"Like, if I traveled back in time?"

"No. If we had another fight, would you drop me?"

"I don't think so." 

"I'd say I wouldn't do it again, but I don't even know how I'd do it again. Unless you're thinking about adopting another kid."

"Honestly? I kind of am."

It's a surprise, but it shouldn't be. "Empty-nesting?"

"I've got all this extra money now."

"Wow, yeah, that sucks. I feel so bad for you."

She smiles a little, but her focus is elsewhere. "And I liked--I wasn't perfect at being a parent, but I think I could foster, find another kid who's a good match--"

"I never said it was a bad idea. Especially since they won't be your entire social circle now."

She laughs. "Yeah, that was tough on Madi."

"I bet." He clears his throat. "I wouldn't do it again. With a new kid."

"No?" she asks. "If you could go back in time, what would you do?"

He doesn't even have to think. "The same thing. It would suck and I'd hate it, but--I'd do the same thing."

"I wouldn't," she says. "If it happened again, I'd tell you--" Her voice fades, and his heart flips.

"You can still tell me. I feel like you already know my side. Why I did it. But I can explain again, if you want."

"No, I get it. What did you think I'd do?"

She sounds curious, like it's a puzzle she's been working on and she's calling in a consult. He has to think to. "Honestly? I thought you'd blow up. I figured I'd let you yell at me until you were done and then I'd tell you my side. I thought you might need a break, but--I thought we'd work it out. Madi would talk you around."

"She tried."

"My therapist told me I needed to stop feeling like I was the wronged party," he admits. "If I wanted to be friends with you again. I kept saying it was my fault, but I was still pissed at you, and she said I couldn't have it both ways."

"I would have been pissed at me too."

The question hangs in the air between them, but he feels like an asshole asking it. He's supposed to be confessing, not dredging up old history.

"Do you want to know?" she asks, saving him.

"Want to? Yeah, of course. But I don't need to."

She bites her lip, looks down at her cider. "You probably do."

Hope lurches in his chest. "You're the expert."

She leans forward, not looking at him. "I didn't know how to keep you. As part of the family. Not when--you didn't live with us anymore, you were engaged to someone else, you had--this whole life, you were going to have. You'd get married and have kids and--leave. And I knew you loved Madi, but that didn't--it just made it harder. I couldn't handle you being her dad. And--that's what you were. I didn't see a way out, except for a clean break. I couldn't keep seeing you, if you weren't--"

"Raven said I should tell you I'm in love with you." Her eyes snap up, wide and blue and shocked, and he smiles a little. She didn't say it first, but she didn't really need to. He can do it. That was the plan. "I was going to wait until after Madi got married in case you stopped talking to me again."

She lets out this wet, shocked little laugh, shakes her head like she has water in her ear, like she needs to get something out. "I didn't stop talking to you because _you_ were in love with _me_ ," she says, and that's it, all he needs. He slides his hand around her neck and pulls her in and she's still smiling when he kisses her, which is how he always wants it to be.

It should always be just like this.

*

"I guess she thought once I moved out, I'd stop worrying about Madi," he tells Luna at their next appointment. "Which she said she should have known was never going to happen. But she was having a crisis. Madi never played us against each other like that, and she didn't know what she'd do if it happened again."

Luna is smiling faintly, amused but also a little indulgent, like he's ridiculous.

Which he is, right now. He hasn't stopped smiling since he kissed Clarke.

"So she stopped talking to you."

"Yeah. She couldn't tell me what was happening without telling me she was in love with me, and she didn't want to tell me that when I was engaged to someone else. And she never reached out after because she thought I was married to someone else. And that I was pissed at her."

"It's very strange to hear you saying it with that grin on your face."

"Honestly? I feel better. It's not, like--it sucks, but I don't know what I would have done if I was her. Us half-raising a kid together was never a good idea."

"You don't say."

"It's not a great story, but it's got a happy ending. So far."

"After a week."

"Yeah, but a really long week."

She shakes her head, but she's smiling too. "I'm actually having trouble thinking of questions to ask. Have you told all your friends?"

"We told Raven, so I assume everyone knows. We haven't told Madi yet. Clarke's nervous."

"You aren't?"

"I assumed she was going to try to set us up as soon as she asked if I was really divorced, so no, not really. I think she'll be happy for us."

"These things can hit us in ways we don't expect," she says. "But I hope you're right."

"You really don't have anything to say, huh?"

"Not unless something goes wrong. Or you have something you need to talk about."

It feels like he should. He probably will, in the weeks and months to come. But this is also _Clarke_ , and they could always talk about everything except the one, massive thing. And now, that's out of the way. They're back on the same page.

"Not yet. Ask me again next month."

"Month?" she asks, amused.

"I've got a girlfriend now. And a wedding to plan. And school started."

"You're too busy for me, I get it."

He grins. "You said you trusted me with this one. You told me. No takebacks."

"No takebacks," she says. "If you have an emergency, call me."

"Or Miller, but he'll just tell me to call you. Or Clarke," he adds. "I guess I call Clarke first now." 

"I'll update my mental ranking of your friend group accordingly. If you're back to monthly, I might not see you until after the wedding. You can live with that?"

"If I can't, I'll let you know. I'm good. Really."

"I believe you. I'll see you next month."

*

Clarke heads out to the wilds of Western Massachusetts the week before the wedding so she can micromanage on site, but Bellamy has a real job he doesn't do from wherever his laptop is, so he doesn't make it down until after school on Thursday--his sort of daughter is getting married, he figures he can take _one_ personal day--at which point most of the work is done.

"I'm really efficient," Clarke says.

"That's one word for it." He kisses her hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. I'll feel better once all of Madi's friends actually get here, but everything else is pretty set. It's really not that bad, as weddings go."

"And no vegetable loaf."

She scowls. "Don't jinx it. I couldn't get that in writing."

"You bought the cake, Clarke. I saw the receipts."

"There could also be vegetable loaf."

"As long as there's cake, is that really an issue?"

"If we run out of cake, you have to eat the loaf."

"I can live with that." He grins. "Can you believe I thought everything was done and you wouldn't be freaking out?"

"I wasn't until you brought up the vegetable loaf." She leans up for a kiss, long and warm. "But we do have a hotel room."

"We do. You should show me."

They spend most of Friday fielding panicked calls from Madi and Josh's friends who get lost trying to drive from Boston and/or Albany. Bellamy has to pick up a few people from the train, which is at least better than driving in the city, and help Josh's dad with last-minute setup, and he doesn't even realize he has to get dressed for the not-really-a-rehearsal-dinner dinner until Clarke drags him away from the barn.

"It looks perfect," she says.

"It does, but what if it would look even better if every table was an inch to the left?"

"Come on, Bellamy."

The dinner is mostly the kids reconnecting with friends whom they haven't seen for almost five months, which is a little funny. They're all acting like it's been years while Bellamy and Clarke--who literally didn't speak for six years--watch with wine. None of their friends are coming until tomorrow, but it's kind of nice. He doesn't quite feel like the father of the bride, but it's pretty close. And a lot less awkward than it would have been if he and Clarke _weren't_ dating yet.

Raven calls at eight the next morning, because she's an asshole. "I'm surrounded by cows."

"I'm in bed with my beautiful girlfriend, don't blame me for your life choices."

"Seriously, we're lost."

He groans and drags himself to his feet. "Seriously, you're calling me from a phone with GPS. I thought you were more competant than the college kids."

"GPS crashed, I barely got enough signal to call you. I think we got off the highway too soon, you need to figure out where we are."

"I need to murder you."

"Which you can't do unless you figure out where I am."

It's a fair point, and he finds some coffee and Raven and Shaw drive around reading road signs and periodically losing their cell signal until Bellamy finally figures out they're, like, five minutes away, and he'll be able to murder them so, so soon.

Clarke gives him a quick kiss and goes to help Madi get ready, which should keep her busy until the ceremony. Bellamy makes Shaw pick the last straggling guests up from the train station and goes back to the barn, moving the tables one or two inches at a time while Raven gets the sound system set up.

"You think you're going to do another one of these?" she asks. "With Clarke?"

"Maybe, if she wants. We haven't talked about it yet. What about you? Shaw going to make an honest woman out of you?"

She grins. "I know you're just setting me up to say I'm not an honest woman, but I'm going to zag and say I'm thinking of proposing to him."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe I'll make an honest man out of him."

"Good luck with that one. You're good, right?" he has to ask. "With all this. I know you and Clarke are still--"

"This is the last time we're having this conversation. You just have to believe me from now on." She sighs. "I get what she did and why she did it. I think she should have just told you and let you figure your shit out, but maybe I'm only saying that because I know you and Echo got divorced."

"Yeah, hindsight is twenty-twenty."

"I'm not mad at your girlfriend. We're going to be cool, one of these days. And it's going to be a great wedding."

Bellamy has a dance reserved with Madi, and one with Raven, and one with Miller, and then he'll be with Clarke for the rest of the night. They'll be sitting at a table with some of Josh's family and some of the college kids, because everyone decided it would be better if the groups mingled instead of staying separate. Wells is coming after all, and he's promised to get drunk and ask Bellamy all his intentions, which should be kind of novel. No one's asked his intentions in a while, and Clarke deserves someone being protective of her for a change.

There will be music and laughter and it will be the happiest day of Madi's life, and probably of his, too, right up with his own wedding. He can have two happiest days, and maybe another one when Raven and Shaw get married, and someday, maybe, when he and Clarke get married. When they adopt another kid, and that kid graduates or gets married or does whatever it is that makes them happy.

They can all be the happiest day of his life. He can have as many of those as he wants. Who's going to stop him?

He grins at Raven, the expression coming so easily. "The fucking best."


End file.
